Confined Space
by GB Freak1
Summary: Shawn faces his worst fear.  Can the gang save him in time?
1. Chapter 1

Notes: I watched the CSI episode Grave Danger Parts 1 and 2. It was the scariest show I've seen in a while. I was thoroughly disturbed and enjoyed it, and then I "borrowed" some of the plot. I don't own Psych or CSI.

Chapter 1: Places Where You Shouldn't Hide

Flashback: Santa Barbara 1989

Nine year-old Shawn Spencer ran to the front of the house. He needed a place to hide and fast. Gus knew all his usual hiding places, he wanted to stump Gus. He spied the old refrigerator beside his next door neighbor, Mr. Keller's driveway. "Perfect," he thought, "Gus will never find me in there." He remembered his dad's rule of only playing hide and seek on their property. "Close enough," he told himself. Just as he was about to climb in he had second thoughts. Something about being in that small dark, space didn't sound like fun. "I'll just keep the door open a crack," he thought. He climbed in and pulled the door toward him. He must have pulled it too hard and the door closed completely with a loud clicking sound. He pushed and couldn't get the door open again. What he didn't realize that this was an old refrigerator with a mechanical locking mechanism, instead of the newer magnetic seals. Mr. Keller finally decided to get rid of the ancient refrigerator from 1958 that was sitting in his basement. Shawn sat in the dark and panicked. He started yelling and pounding against the door. He hoped that someone would hear him.

Gus sat on the steps of the Spencer home when Henry pulled into the driveway in his patrol car. He looked over at the refrigerator by the Keller's driveway. He immediately got angry. After he changed, he would go remind Keller that the door on old refrigerators should be taken off to prevent kids getting trapped inside and suffocating. Henry closed the car door and walked up the path to the house carrying his lunchbox. "Hey Gus," he greeted his son's friend, "Where's Shawn?"

"I don't know. We're playing hide and seek. It was his turn to hide. I can't find him inside or outside. I've been looking for like twenty minutes," Gus told him as he looked up at Henry. Henry was suddenly hit by a feeling of dread and glanced over his shoulder at the refrigerator.

"He wouldn't," he thought to himself. "Oh no," he said out loud, dropping his empty lunchbox and running toward the deathtrap in his neighbor's yard. Mr. Keller had just come outside to water his lawn, when he saw Henry running toward his driveway with Gus following after him.

"Henry, what on Earth are you doing?" he asked when he saw Henry open the refrigerator and a young boy tumble toward him. "Oh Lord," Keller said and ran into the house to call for an ambulance.

Henry laid his son down gently on the ground. Shawn was unconscious. Henry listened near Shawn nose and heard Shawn wasn't breathing. He felt for his son's pulse and it was strong. He knew he needed to start rescue breathing. He pinched Shawn's nose and placed his mouth over Shawn's. Breathing slowly, he watched as Shawn's chest rose and he pause to watch it fall. He checked for a pulse and started again. After the third time, Shawn started coughing and was breathing on his own. Henry almost passed out in relief. He didn't even realize that Keller was behind him. "I called an ambulance, Henry," Keller told him. Then Shawn started sobbing and shaking. Henry gathered his son up in his arms and hugged him close to his chest.

"What are you doing hiding in there, Shawn? I told you not to go off our property to hide without permission. We could have lost you," Henry scolded. He didn't think Shawn heard a word. The kid was a mess, crying and shaking. "Hey, buddy. Calm down, you're out. You need to relax or you'll hyperventilate."

"It was dark, hot and stuffy. I couldn't breathe. No one heard me. No one helped me. Did you find me?" Shawn sobbed. Henry hugged him close.

"Yeah, I found you kiddo."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Just a Mild Mannered Reporter, well not really

Gary Cushing sat at his desk in the newsroom of the Sun, Santa Barbara's most prestigious newspaper. He smiled as he looked at the research he was doing. He had achieved one of his goals by getting this job. His mother told him he'd never be able to get a job at the paper, but he proved her wrong. He wasn't a reporter yet, but doing research was fine for now. He stretched his tall, lanky frame out and rubbed his eyes. The cubicle was small for a man who was 6' 3". He looked back at the computer and the headline "Local Psychic Shawn Spencer Solves Another Crime". He couldn't believe it. Henry Spencer's son was a psychic with the Santa Barbara Police Department. Since he moved back here he meant to look up his old friend. Henry had saved his life and he would never forget that.

Gary's father had been an abusive alcohol. One night when Gary was fourteen, his father was particularly vicious. He knocked Gary around until his mother stepped in to stop it. Then his father started on his mom. Gary's fear that his mother would be killed by his father's rage pushed him to call the police. Gary crawled to the phone and placed the call. Henry Spencer and his partner arrived at the chaotic scene. They opened the door to see Gary's father with a gun to his mother's head. Henry's partner fired, killing the man. Henry went to the injured boy on the floor, while his partner checked on the mother. Gary remembered how caring Henry had been that night, staying with the teenager until the paramedics arrived. Henry had even visited Gary in the hospital. Henry had told Gary that he had a son that was about 5 years younger than Gary. The teenager thought enviously about how cool it must have been to grow up with Henry Spencer as your dad.

The attack left Gary's mother in the hospital for many months. Having no other relatives, Gary was sent to foster care. Henry had promised to come and take him out to dinner before he was placed in the first foster home. He remembered the disappointment when Henry called and said that Shawn was taken to the hospital, so Henry wouldn't be able to make it. Gary never knew exactly what happened, he just remembered the jealousy about the fact that Henry cared about his son in a way Gary's father never cared about him.

Gary did not do well in the foster care system. At the second foster care home, he attacked his guardians after the father tried to discipline him. The man was badly beaten by the rapidly growing teenager and the state decided that the boy had too many issues for foster care. His mother had been released to a rehabilitation hospital, but could still not care for her son. So, Gary was sent to a mental institution to address his psychological issues. After that it had been one mental institution after another, until the last one where he lived for five years. His therapist there, seemed to find a way to control Gary's rage. He received a bachelor's degree in journalism online with the help of his doctor and soon was released. His mother now lived in Long Beach, but he wanted to return to Santa Barbara. He got this job doing research at the paper and was placed in a group home to help with his adjustment to the outside world.

He looked back at the computer screen. Shawn Spencer, Gary would love to see what he was like. Gary thought a lot about Henry's kindness that night in the years that followed and hoped to talk to him again. He assumed that Henry's son was probably a police officer, so he looked him up in the paper's database. He thought he could find Henry that way. Most retired police officers had unlisted phone numbers to protect themselves and their families. He was surprised when Shawn came up as a psychic detective with his own agency. He was contemplating his next move, when his boss, Tyler Donnelly approached him.

"Cushing, I need a favor," Tyler said, sitting on the edge of the desk. Gary was not fond of people entering his personal space, so he backed up a little.

"Yes, Mr. Donnelly. What do you need?"

"Well, the mayor has issued the proposed budget for next year. It includes some interesting changes for the police department, like increasing funds for civil consultants and adding five new squad cars. I need someone to get Interim Chief Vick's opinion on the proposals. You up for it?"

"Wow, this is a great opportunity, sir. Yes I'd love too." Gary answered.

"Here's a list of what I needed you to ask. Okay? When you get to the station, ask to see the Chief. I'll call ahead and give them your name. Good luck."

"Thanks Mr. Donnelly. I appreciate it." Gary gathered up a few things. Maybe he could ask a few questions about Shawn, while he was there.

Donnelly watched as the strange man left. Gary was unnaturally calm and passive. Most people in the office found talking to the new guy uncomfortable. It was like he was analyzing everything you said. His habit of staring didn't help that his eyes were dark and haunting. The black, shoulder-length hair kept in a ponytail and the goatee probably didn't help with the scary image that Gary exuded. Donnelly knew that Gary appeared to be aware of how others saw him. He wondered how much of his mousy, dim-witted personality was an act.

Gary Cushing entered the Santa Barbara Police Station and was fascinated with the beautiful tiled interior of the building. It was not at all like he remembered it. But that was a long time ago. The last time he was here was when he had attacked that foster care family. He stopped himself and thought, "Don't go there Gary. Your therapist said it wasn't good to dwell." He walked up to the receptionist desk.

"Can I help you, sir?" Officer Espinosa asked him.

"Yes, I have an appointment with Chief Vick. I'm Gary Cushing with the Sun. You know the newspaper."

"Yes, sir. I'm familiar with it. Just have a seat, sir," the officer pointed to the bench behind him.

"Thank you," he said and sat down.

A few minutes later the receptionist told him to go in to see the Chief. He asked the standard questions and relaxed because the Chief was so personable. Then he started with some of his own questions.

"Shawn Spencer is a civil consultant for you?" Gary asked.

"Yes, he's our resident psychic. Fabulous track record. Unusual methods, but he and his partner, Burton Guster get the job done."

"Is it true that he's Henry Spencer's son?"

He was surprised when her facial expression changed to slightly annoyed. "Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, nothing. You see," he was cut off by a knock on the glass door and the door flying open. Two young men entered.

"How's my favorite Interim Chief?" said the brunette man dressed in a T-shirt and jeans.

"Mr. Spencer, what have I said about interrupting me?"

"Sorry, Chief," Shawn said and pouted.

"It's funny, we were just talking about you. Gary Cushing, this is Shawn Spencer. And this is Shawn's business partner Burton Guster. Shawn, Gary is a reporter with the Sun." Shawn reached out and shook Gary's hand. Then Gus did.

"Nice to meet you, Gary. Big fan of your paper," Shawn said.

"Thanks. Are you related to Detective Henry Spencer?" Gary asked. Karen was perplexed by the same question being repeated.

Shawn rolled his eyes and replied, "Why yes I am. He's retired now. Do you know him?"

Gary was a little annoyed by Shawn's condescending tone. "I did when I was a kid. I lived in Santa Barbara until I was about fifteen. He's a great guy. Must have been awesome to have him as a father," Gary said. Gus' eyes widened and he laughed at the comment, loudly. Shawn couldn't contain an amused smirk.

"Are we talking about Detective Henry L. Spencer? Because awesome isn't exactly what I would call it, more like tyrannical, or oppressive," Shawn said, laughing.

Gary frowned at Shawn. "I find that hard to believe. When you see your father, tell him that I said hi. Chief, I think I have what I need. Thanks," he said and headed out the door.

"Whoa. Uptight much," Shawn said as Gary walked out. Gus laughed and Karen just shook her head.

"What do you want, Mr. Spencer?" she asked.

Gary stood outside the police station and fumed. He paced around his car talking to himself. "That jerk. So egotistical. How could he talk about his father that way? I would give my right arm for a father like that. I need to talk to Henry Spencer. I think he might need my help."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Snooping

Notes: Thanks to Josu for the awesome chapter ending scene.

Henry Spencer was trimming the bushes in his backyard at around 10 a.m., the next day. He noticed a tall man close to his back gate. The pair made eye contact. Henry put down the trimmers, and approached him.

"Can I help you?" Henry asked, slightly annoyed.

"Wow, you look different," the tall man said.

"Do I know you?"

"You used to, but you probably don't remember. Gary Cushing." He said holding out his hand.

Henry racked his brain, "Not ringing any bells." He ignored the outstretched hand.

Gary was offended that his hero did not remember him, so he put his hand down. "You saved my mom and me, from my father. I was fourteen." Gary said.

Henry thought for a minute, "Oh yeah, your dad was Robert Cushing. I remember. You certainly grew. Wait, how do you know where I live?"

"Well, I'm a reporter for the Sun," Gary said shyly.

"And?" Henry asked.

"I did a little investigating, asking around. I really appreciated all you did for me back then. I just wanted to say thank you." Gary smiled, recalling how he had inquired at the docks to see if anyone had seen Henry. He remembered Henry telling him all about fishing on the ride to the hospital that night. So, Gary figured that a retired Henry Spencer must be a fisherman. Someone in one of the stores told him the area where Henry lived and Gary walked around until he spotted Henry outside of his house.

Henry felt a little guilty for grilling the kid, but he felt like something was off. "Why don't you come in," he said opening the gate. "Can I get you something? Coffee, water, lemonade? Let's go sit on the porch."

Gary followed him up to the porch and sat down, "I'll take a glass of water. Thanks." Henry went in and quickly came back out again. He held a cup of coffee for him and a glass of water for his guest.

"So Gary, you're a reporter?" Henry asked.

"I recently moved back to Santa Barbara, just started about two weeks ago."

"Good for you. I knew you'd do well for yourself." Henry said and patted Gary's shoulder.

"I met your son at the station yesterday, while I was interviewing the Interim Chief." Gary said, carefully gauging Henry's reaction. He was surprised to see Henry tense and frown slightly.

"You met Shawn," Henry said.

"Yes. It seems like the Chief really likes him. My co-workers at the paper talk about him a lot. Colorful personality as my boss likes to say."

"That's an understatement. Everyone loves Shawn. He's always the life of the party. He was the class clown," Henry said. "Still is."

"The Chief said he is very successful as a psychic detective," Gary said, probing for more.

"I'm waiting to see how long this lasts. He's a sharp kid. Gets bored easily," Henry said.

"You seem disappointed in him. You two, don't get along well?" Gary asked. Henry was a little disturbed at the line of questioning

Henry looked at him, "No offense, Gary. I haven't seen you in almost twenty years and even then we were just acquaintances. I don't talk about family matters with strangers. My relationship with my son is personal business."

Gary bristled at the tone; he tried a different tactic, "I'm sorry. I should have been honest with you. I'm doing a story about Shawn for the paper. It's more of a personal piece. People he knows, lives he's touched."

"Does he know this? Because if he did, he would have told me and bragged to everyone and anyone." Henry said amused.

"Not yet. I wanted everyone's unbiased opinion of him."

"Tell you what. Come over for dinner tomorrow night around seven o'clock. I'll invite Shawn and his business partner Gus. We can all talk then," Henry said.

"Nothing you want to say without him listening in," Gary said.

"My son can tell you enough about himself without me butting in," Henry said.

About twenty minutes later, Gary left Henry's house. They discussed Gary's job, Henry's retirement, but Shawn never came up again. Gary was angry. Why didn't Henry want to talk about Shawn and their relationship? He was a friend, not an acquaintance. He only wanted to help. Didn't Henry realize that? Henry's inability to express his emotions wasn't healthy. Maybe after doing a little more research, Gary could help the Spencers work on that. He needed more information on Shawn, and then he had a lot of work to do to get his plan in motion.

Henry watched Gary leave the yard. Something about the younger man was off. He imagined the childhood the poor guy had and the time spent in foster care probably had an effect on him. He'd better call Shawn and let him know of the plans that he made.

On the other side of town, Gus was walking through the halls of the office of his 'other' job, talking on his cell phone with Shawn.

"What do you mean, Shawn?"

"Exactly what I'm telling you, Gus. That crazy reporter from yesterday went to my dad's house and told him he wants to do some kind of story on me."

"What about me?" Gus asked somewhat appalled.

"I'm sure you too. Now can we get back to the problem at hand."

"I don't see the problem Shawn. This could be good for business."

"There's something off about him, man. I don't know, anyways we need to meet him at my Dad's tomorrow night for dinner and we can figure out more about him then."

Shawn could hear the sound of a car door shutting just before Gus spoke again.

"You're at the office, right?"

"Yeah"

"Alright, I'm leaving work now, so I should be there in about fifteen minutes."

"Well, don't make me wait too long. There's nothing worse than having to play a game of foosball by myself."

Gus just hung up the phone; he wasn't even going to waste his breath on giving Shawn an answer.

Gus had just pulled onto the freeway when his cell phone rang again, immediately annoyed figuring it was Shawn calling back to tell him he was bored. Picking up the phone not bothering to check the caller ID he flipped it open.

"Shawn! I am on my way and I'm not making any pit stops for you," Gus waited for the sarcastic reply to come over the phone but all he was met with was silence. Bringing his phone away from his hear, he checked the caller ID noticing that it read Unavailable before putting to his ear once again.

"Hello?" Gus was about to hang up until a quiet voice came over the line.

"Is this Mr. Guster?"

"Yeah, who is this?" Gus asked as he tried to pay attention to who was on the phone and not miss his exit at the same time.

"Oh, right. Right. This is Gary Cushing, the reporter from the Sun. We met yesterday and I'm calling because I'm doing a story on your friend Shawn and I was wondering if I could ask you some questions?"

"Such as?" Gus was more than a little leery of this guy, Shawn was right something was totally off about him.

Gus could hear the other man clear his throat before continuing, "I'm wondering what you can tell me about the relationship between Shawn and his father?"

'What an odd question', Gus thought to himself.

"I'm really not at liberty to answer that kind of question about Shawn and his dad, maybe you should ask them both when you meet them for dinner."

There was another longer pause on the line, "You know about that all ready", came the stuttered reply.

Gus had just pulled the car up in front of Psych when a thought hit him, "By the way, how did you get my phone number?" Gus pulled the phone away from his ear as it started to crackle loudly, "Hello?" he yelled.

A moment later Gus looked at the phone again, realizing now that the call had been dropped. Grabbing his stuff from the passenger seat, he shook his head at how weird that call was. Stepping out of the car, he kicked the door shut with a mumbled, "Some reporter that guy is", before he was interrupted as the front door of Psych flew open and Shawn leaned out.

"Gus, did you remember the pineapple?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Therapy Sessions

Notes: Mild swearing.

Shawn got off his bike in his Dad's driveway. It was strange but Gus had to deliver some samples at a doctor's office at the late hour. Not wanting to both be late, they agreed to meet at Henry's. Shawn knocked on his dad's front door. No answer. Tonight was the night when they agreed to have dinner with that weird reporter, Gary something or other. "Dad, are you home?" Shawn called. He turned the knob and the front door opened easily. "That's weird," he said aloud and entered. He put his helmet on the kitchen counter and took off his jacket, tossing it on the couch. He noticed the sliding glass door in the back was open slightly. "Dad, you should really turn your hearing aid up," he quipped. It was just starting to get dark, making it difficult to see in the backyard. He stopped when he noticed the back porch light wasn't on. He flipped the switch on the wall by the door, nothing happened. Then he noticed a person sprawled out in the middle of the yard on their stomach. "Dad?" he asked and started toward the person quickly.

He crouched down next to his father, placing his hand on his dad's neck searching for a pulse. He found one. Was his father snoring? "Dad, wake up," he said jostling the older man. Suddenly, someone was grabbing him from behind. The assailant placed a cotton rag over his face and he could smell the chloroform. He kicked and pushed trying to extricate himself from the strong grip, but the more he struggled, the more of the chemical he breathed in. He felt his arms getting weaker and then he couldn't keep his eyes open. His limp body sagged in the attacker's arms. Gary let Shawn drop to the ground. Gary smiled. His little therapy experiment was going to be such fun. These two had some serious emotional issues to explore. If he couldn't help them, then he would have to take more drastic measures.

Shawn felt the sensation of movement. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he was in the backyard. He opened his eyes slowly and looked around. He was in some sort of a van or SUV. He moved his arm to try to sit up and found his wrists bound together behind him by those annoying plastic wrist ties. He sat himself up against the back of the passenger seat as the car stopped moving. He was about to turn to get a view of the driver when the same damn rag was over his nose and mouth again. He tried to resist, but it was useless due to his restraints. Blackness clouded his vision.

Again, Shawn opened his eyes slowly. He felt groggy. He was so going to punch whoever kept knocking him out. He tried to gauge his surroundings before opening his eyes. He was lying down and it was dark. All his limps were unbound. He moved to sit up and smacked his head hard. His eyes flew open and he quickly moved his hands around. "Oh no," was all he could utter at the horrible realization that he was locked in a coffin-like box. He could feel himself starting to panic. This was his worst nightmare, not being able to move, being trapped. It was like that awful day all over again, in the refrigerator. Forcing down those memories, he heard his father's voice was playing in his head, "Don't lose it. Take a look at your surroundings."

It was dark, but he felt a vent to his left. The inside of his prison was smooth and slick, but not cool like glass, probably Plexiglas. Suddenly, light flooded the small space. Shawn squeezed his eyes tight to block the glare. A somewhat familiar sounding voice spoke to him. "Welcome Shawn. I can call you Shawn, can't I?"

"Who are you? What do you want?" he answered.

"You're psychic. You tell me," the voice taunted.

"My powers don't really work so well under stress, asshole," Shawn said angrily.

"Is the name calling really necessary, Shawn? I want us to be friends. Trust one another. Share things."

"Okay, let me go first. Let me out of HERE," Shawn raged banging his fists madly against the box.

"Shawn, calm down. I know your father taught you better manners than that. But then again you really don't seem to appreciate him too much, do you?"

Shawn didn't say a word, trying to get his breathing back under control. "Now Shawn, let me explain where you are," the voice told him. "That tiny, little box you're in is inside another one. The outer box is attached to a vacuum, so if I choose to I can literally suck all the air out of it." Gary smiled when he heard Shawn's soft distressed whimper. The camera, speaker, and microphone were all working just as Gary envisioned. Gary was thrilled. No one would figure out where he was, and the decoy at his mother's house would throw them off.

"I hold all the cards, Shawn. I decide if you live or die. You, your Dad, and I are going to get to know one another. You two have such fascinating emotional issues that I want to explore. Your dad has some trust issues."

"What in the hell does that have to do with keeping me in this damn box, you sick freak?" Shawn yelled.

"Don't you see Shawn? I'm playing on your worst fears; being trapped, alone, and in a situation that is completely out of your control. It allows you to drop that silly mask you present to the world. I've been researching you, Shawn. Now I need to know all about you, so that I can understand your father." The voice explained sounding like this was the most logical thing in the world. Shawn felt his heart pounding in his ears. He was completely terrified. What kind of sick person was this? He suddenly was aware that there was a very good chance that he wasn't getting out of this alive. The voice said something about his dad.

"Your father's gruff exterior will fall away also. This situation will play on every father's worst fears, watching his son possibly die and not being able to do a thing about it. He's so out of touch with his emotions. It will surprise you how forthcoming people are when someone they love is in jeopardy, if he actually loves you," the voice said giddily. Shawn felt nauseous. This monster was seriously twisted.

"Why? Why are you doing this to us?" Shawn stuttered.

"I love watching people. You and your father are intriguing. You two obviously care about the other one, but don't want the other one to know. And frankly I'm sickened by your cavalier attitude when it comes to your dad. He's a great man and you don't appreciate him. I want to help you do that. And maybe help your father understand what he needs in a son. Let him decide if that's you, the real you. Listen this conservation is fantastic, but I have an appointment. I have to let your dad know the game plan."

Shawn closed his eyes. The panic was overwhelming him. He whispered, "Don't leave me here. Let me out." Gary heard Shawn whispering and smiled.

"Although, I do have to ask you: How much faith do you have in Gus and your friends in blue?"

"You leave Gus alone, you monster," Shawn said vehemently. "They're going to find you."

"Shawn, so protective, that's sweet. I don't think the police will be quite as effective without their resident psychic. But I may just clue them in to figure this thing out. Not right away mind you. Of course, if you keep this attitude up, it'll probably be too late for you, but at least they can say that they tried. Anyway, talk to you later Shawn," the light and fan shut off.

Shawn thought, "I know that voice. I know that voice." Then he yelled, "Gary, you freak. They're going to figure out it's you. They'll find you!" He felt his blood pressure rising and tried hard to calm down. The more he tried, the more scared he became. He started pounding at his prison in frustration and pure terror.

Henry heard someone calling his name and shaking him. "Mr. Spencer, are you all right?" Henry looked up to see Gus kneeling next to him.

"What happened?" Henry asked, disorientated. He sat up.

"I'm not sure. I just got here. No one answered the door, so I came back here to check to see where you two were," Gus said.

Henry looked confused and asked, "Where's Gary?"

"I don't know. I saw your truck and Shawn's motorcycle. We drove separately. I had a sample that a doctor asked me to deliver. It turns out the office was closed, when I got there." Gus answered.

"What? What time is it?" Henry said rubbing his aching head. He felt like he had a hangover and couldn't focus.

"It's about 8 p.m. I'm going to call for an ambulance."

"Don't do that. I'm fine. Gus, Gary was here. I think, I think he might have drugged me," he stopped and looked at Gus. Henry's face drained of all its color as he asked, "If Shawn's motorcycle is here, where is Shawn? Is he inside?" Henry struggled to stand up.

"Mr. Spencer, you should just stay put. I'll go look," Gus ran to the house. He opened the door and entered the house. Shawn's helmet was on the counter and jacket on the couch.

"Oh no," Gus said, a feeling of dread washing over him. "Shawn! Shawn!" he called as he ran through the house. He came back into the kitchen and Henry was sitting at the table.

"He's not here. But his jacket, his bike, and his helmet are," Gus said making eye contact with Henry.

"Call his phone," Henry said. Gus called Shawn's cell on his phone.

"Voice mail." Gus said. They both looked at each other.

"Damn it," Henry said, followed by Gus', "Something's wrong."

"I'm calling Lassiter and O'Hara. Shawn's missing," Gus said.

"And Gary's involved somehow," Henry said.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Horrors of Helplessness

Lassiter's car pulled up to the house exactly 15 minutes after Gus' frantic phone call. The Chief, O'Hara, forensics, other patrol units, and much to Henry's dismay paramedics quickly followed him. Henry tried to wave off the paramedics, but Gus insisted. "Shawn needs you at 100, Mr. Spencer," Gus told him and Henry agreed to the exam as the police combed the house. While Henry was in the kitchen being examined by the medics, Gus then filled the Chief, Lassiter, and Juliet in on what he knew. The three were standing in the living room. Gus kept his eyes on Henry, while Juliet kept a hand on Shawn's leather jacket.

"So Gus, when did you get here?" Lassiter asked.

"About ten to eight. I found Mr. Spencer in the backyard, lying on the ground. He told me that Gary Cushing was here."

"The reporter from the Sun? Why on Earth was he here?" Chief Vick asked.

"He was supposedly doing a story on Shawn. But you know, Shawn even said there was something weird about him. And then the guy called my cell phone and was asking questions about Henry and Shawn," Gus said.

"How'd he get your number?" Juliet asked.

"I don't know," Gus said, "But if he was here, he must have Shawn."

"But why, it doesn't make any sense. We need the file on this guy. McNabb," Lassiter bellowed. McNabb appeared. "I need you to go to the station and start getting everything we have on Gary Cushing."

"You probably want to request his juvenile records too. I think he spent some time in detention after getting kicked out of foster care," Henry suggested as he walked over and sat on the couch. McNabb nodded and headed out. Henry continued, "He came to see me yesterday. I was called to the scene the night his father tried to kill him and his mother. I tried to keep in touch with him for a while afterwards."

"He's fixated on you for some reason," Lassiter said.

Henry nodded in agreement. Juliet noticed how exhausted he looked.

"Are you all right, Mr. Spencer?" as soon as the words left her lips, Juliet regretted them. "I mean, did you," she tried to say, before he cut her off.

"Yes, Detective, the medics have cleared me. I'm just tired and I want to know where my son is."

"Lassiter, I want you to set-up a trace on this line with the computer techs and get a uniformed unit here. I'll head back to headquarters and put out an A.P.B. on Cushing. O'Hara, I want you to come with me." Karen said. She and Juliet left.

The chaos seemed to die down about an hour later. The excitement didn't pick up again until about an hour after that. Henry was sleeping in his armchair and Gus was pacing around the kitchen listening to the tech boys, Ryan Anderson and Jake Gordon, talk about what they were doing. They showed him their high tech toys and Lassiter rolled his eyes at the nerdy trio. He went outside to look at the vehicle tracks just outside the backyard fence.

Suddenly, a young female rookie came barreling in the front door pushing a man in his early thirties, dressed messily in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. The man looked like a poster boy for facial piercing. Another officer followed holding a manila envelope with gloved hands. Henry was startled awake, and Gus ran to the back porch and told Lassiter to come back in. Lassiter came back into the room.

"What? What's going on?" Lassiter asked the two officers.

"This guy came here to deliver the package that Jones is holding. He won't say who he is," the female officer told Lassiter.

"Sir, I'm not sure if there are any prints on it, but I figured we shouldn't touch it," Jones said.

"Good thinking, Jones. Show it to the geek brothers over there," Lassiter said.

"Hey," both of the techs said simultaneously.

Lassiter moved Jones and the delivery guy into the living room, sitting him down on the couch. Henry sat at the edge of the seat.

"What's your name?" Lassiter said. The tone of his voice conveyed his anger.

"I want a lawyer," the man said.

"You have to be under arrest first, moron. Now, what's your name?" the detective growled. The man glanced over at Henry and jumped at the fury he saw in the older man's eyes.

"Who the hell is that?" the man asked.

"That man's son is missing. If you don't start answering my questions, I may close my eyes and let him beat you to a pulp. Are we clear?" Lassiter said with a sinister smirk. The suspect looked at Henry again and swallowed hard.

"My name's Casey Harris. I didn't know the guy. I meet him in the parking lot of the newspaper. He gave me a hundred bucks to deliver the package here."

The second he heard the distressed voice of his only child, Henry jumped up and ran toward the kitchen. Lassiter commanded Jones to haul Harris to the station to get his statement.

The package had arrived with a DVD and the tech boys were playing it. The scene on the DVD was horrific to the father, best friend, and co-worker of the imprisoned man. The picture was remarkably clear and it showed Shawn in his little prison. "Gary, you freak. They're going to figure out it's you. They'll find you!" Shawn shouted and then the men watched as he screamed and banged his fists against the walls in shear terror. Henry felt his knees start to buckle. Gus and Jake grabbed an arm.

"Mr. Spencer, sit down," Jake said to the suddenly pale man.

"What does this lunatic want?" Gus asked horrified.

Gary's voice came on as the screen went blank. "Hello Henry. As you can see, I have your son. Now please, don't get the wrong idea. I haven't hurt him."

Henry bit his lip and tasted the blood in his mouth. He rested his chin on his hand and listened intently to the disturbed message. Gus stared at the screen in shock at what he was hearing. He sickeningly realized that he and Shawn were right; there was something off about Gary.

"When I met him the other day, I was shocked that he doesn't realize what it means to have a man like you for a father. So, I've decided to help you by assisting you and your son with your emotional issues. Maybe you'll realize that Shawn isn't what you want in a son after all. But we'll talk about that later. I'll call you in a few hours Henry. You can call the police, but they won't find me. And if they get too close, I can cut off all Shawn's precious oxygen. Well, I better run. That boy of yours sure has a set of lungs on him with all the screaming and name calling. Oh Gus, Shawn says hi. Bye."

Silence filled the room. Henry stood up and banged the chair to the floor and walked out into the backyard. Gus stood in shock.

"Gordon, get this back to the lab and analyze it for anything that can give us a location. Anderson, make sure you have the trace ready," Lassiter commanded and the boys got to work.

Gus looked at Lassiter. "Give him a minute, Gus," Lassiter said, reading the young man's expression of confusion.

"I don't understand. What does this guy want? No ransom. What's he hope to gain?" Gus asked dread evident in his voice.

"This individual is twisted. I," Lassiter looked flustered, "I think we're dealing with a mentally unstable individual and Spencer is more trouble than he's ever been in before."

Shawn laid quietly in the dark. His right arm was covering his eyes and his left was by his side clenching and unclenching a fist. As he lay there, he figured out that the fan must be what helped to move air in and out of the box. He figured that there was probably a camera somewhere because this lunatic was probably enjoying every minute of his ordeal. He prayed that his dad and Gus wouldn't have to see this, but then he figured that was probably the point. The quiet was interrupted by the slow hiss of the fan and then Gary's voice.

"It's time to talk Shawn. I want to help you. Tell me about your Dad," the monotone voice asked quietly.

"Go to hell. I'm not telling you anything," Shawn said with a confidence that he definitely wasn't feeling. He kept his eyes closed and tried to focus on his breathing. It helped to keep the panic at bay.

"Why don't you two get along? He seems like a really cool guy. Did he hit you or do unmentionable things to you?"

"What? No. Are you crazy? Wait, of course you are or I wouldn't be here," Shawn angrily replied.

"Shawn, crazy isn't a nice word. So let me ask you, does this remind you of the time you got locked in the old refrigerator playing hide and seek with Gus?"

"How, how do you know about that?" Shawn asked, shaken that the Gary knew that.

"Well, that day your father was supposed to take me out to dinner before I went into foster care. You were in the hospital. You'd think it would be harder to hack into patient records?"

"Listen, if you let me out now, I won't tell anyone. Please." Shawn said, not caring about the pleading in his voice.

Gary smiled. This was working all ready. Shawn's smug attitude was fading. Time to push him again, "Tell me about your Dad, Shawn. Did he tell you that he loved you?"

"I'm not telling you anything about him," he screamed. The light and fan switched off. He was plunged into darkness again. The fan helped to keep the air from getting stagnant, when it shut off, he panicked, "No, no wait. Come back. NO!"

"Shawn, we've talked about your rudeness. Let's try again. Do you want to hear what he said about you? I taped him the other day," the creepy voice asked him.

"Not really," Shawn said laying his head down, trying to control his breathing. A tear slid down his cheek. "I want to go home, you psychopath!"

"Everyone loves Shawn. He's always the life of the party. He was the class clown," his dad's voice said over the speakers. "Still is."

Shawn didn't want to hear his dad's voice, especially not that disappointed tone. It was too much. Every minute he was trapped here, he felt his hope slipping away and despair crawling into its place. That tone in his Dad's voice hurt and right now it was more than his stressed out mind could handle.

"Please, just stop. Stop it," Shawn said desperately, banging his head back against the floor.

"Hurts to know your father thinks of you as a complete disappointment, doesn't it Shawn? I bet he isn't even looking for you."

"Shut up! He's going to find you. Just wait, then you'll be sorry," Shawn screamed. The speaker clicked off. Shawn fought hard not to cry, but tears still streamed down his face. He pounded the walls of his small prison. "Somebody help me!"

Gary laughed as he watched through the camera at Shawn screaming. This was more fun than he ever imagined.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Seriously Twisted

Back at the Station

At her desk, Juliet O'Hara was poring over Gary Cushing's file on the computer after returning from her short research trip. The suspect's juvenile records were still sealed and they were working to get a warrant to release those. She also noticed a large gap in the listed addresses for Cushing. Immediately after Shawn was abducted, she headed over to Gary's current address to search for clues. Gary had been reported missing by the house supervisor and hadn't been seen in two days, so luckily a search warrant wasn't necessary. She had scoured the room and was amazed how sterile it was. There were no personal signs that Gary had lived there at all, except for some clothes. The house supervisor told her that Gary had been in a mental institution previous to his living in the home, but had no other details. She would ask the Chief for a warrant to get the medical records. She headed back to the station, deeply disappointed in her meager discovery. The frustration seemed to be worse than any of her previous cases because Shawn was someone she considered a friend. She was brought back to the present when the Chief called her name. Juliet raised her head and saw the Chief signal for her to come into her office.

"Close the door, O'Hara," Karen said. Juliet closed the door and then sat in the chair across from the Chief.

"I just received a call from Lassiter. They received a package," Karen told her.

"Any usable prints? What's the ransom demand?" Juliet asked.

"That's the disturbing part. There isn't one," Karen said quietly.

"But then what does he want with Shawn?" Juliet said dismayed.

"Lassiter told me that there was a video of Shawn locked inside of some kind of small box, almost like a coffin," the Chief paused as Juliet gasped, "Cushing apparently has decided to help Henry Spencer with his 'issues' concerning his son. I believe that the man's mental issues are more severe than we were led to believe. O'Hara, when was the last time he was at his current address?"

Juliet read her notes. "Two days ago. The house supervisor said Cushing left for work and didn't return. The supervisor said the home caters to people like Gary trying to adjust to daily living after living in mental hospitals for extended periods of time. We might need a warrant to get more medical information. But his mother is still alive and living in Long Beach. Maybe I can learn something from her?"

"Okay, that's a two hour trip. Take McNabb with you and call me as soon as you can. I'll get a warrant and find his local psychiatrist." Karen said.

"Thanks, Chief," Juliet said as she exited the office. She gathered her notes and files.

"McNabb," she said as she approached him at the front desk. She waited until he looked up. "You and I are going on a road trip to Long Beach."

In the kitchen, Gus watched Ryan Anderson prepare the necessary equipment for the phone line trace. Anderson set up a speaker from his laptop, so that the others could listen in and his computer would also do the tracking and the recording of the call. Gus looked over in the living room and saw Lassiter on the phone. He knew Lassiter was talking to the Chief about the progress they were making at the station. Gus peeked out the window to see Henry Spencer still perched on the picnic table in the backyard. The older man had been outside for at least an hour. He wanted to go say something to his best friend's father, but what? He turned back to face inside. "I'm going to put on some coffee. You want some?" he asked the young man.

"No thanks, sir. Jake would kick my butt if I drank caffeine. Makes me super hyper," Anderson said.

Gus chuckled and started making the coffee, "You sound like Shawn."

"You two are tight, huh?" Anderson said.

Gus looked at the younger man and smiled, "Yes, we are."

Both men looked up as the sliding glass door opened and closed. Henry walked into the kitchen and stood leaning against the counter. "Coffee, ready yet?" he asked quietly when he smelled the brewing java.

"Just about. Um, are you, I mean, do you?" Gus stammered.

"Gus, I appreciate your concern. But I'm fine," Henry said, but at Gus' skeptical expression he added, "As okay as I can be."

Lassiter joined them in the kitchen. "Anything new?" Henry asked.

"The Chief sent O'Hara and McNabb to Cushing's mother's place in Long Beach. They found nothing at the current address. Cushing does appear to have a history of mental illness and we are working on getting that info. I hope that when he calls we can trace the number. What's the likelihood, Anderson?"

"Well, it depends on how he calls. If he uses a land line, no problem. Keep him on the phone for two minutes, I got him. If he uses a web based phone system, it can be trickier. Especially, if he knows how to change his ISP address. Then it will take much longer to track him down," Anderson told them.

"How much longer?" Henry asked.

"Up to 2-3 hours," Anderson said, "But our program's the same one the Feds use. State of the art, Mr. Spencer."

"So, will we be able to hear what is said on the phone?" Lassiter asked the young technician.

"Yes, through the laptop. Mr. Spencer, you'll use this phone on the table," was the young man's answer.

"So now we wait?" Gus asked.

About an hour later, the phone rang. All the men inside the house jumped and got into position. Henry was in front of the phone. Gus and Lassiter were on either side of Anderson at the laptop. Anderson signaled for Henry to pick up.

"Hello," Henry said.

"Good morning, Detective Spencer. This is your wake-up call," Gary said and chuckled. Gus bristled at the callous laughter and he watched Henry tense.

"What the hell is this about? Where's my son?" Henry demanded.

"Now I know where Shawn gets his mouth from," Gary said, clearly amused.

"Where is he?"

"That's not how we play this, Detective."

"Is this a game to you?" Henry yelled. Lassiter signaled for him to calm down.

"Now, now. If you answer my questions, I'll let you talk to him. Although, he's in a bit of a mood right now."

Henry was furious. The maniac was acting like this was fun. "Where is Shawn?" he growled.

"Fine. If you beg me, I'll let you talk to him. So then maybe we can move on," Gary said patronizingly.

"Let me talk to him," Henry said furiously.

"I don't hear you begging, Detective," Gary said giddily. Henry dropped his head on the table; he felt tears stinging his eyes. Lassiter signaled for Henry to keep talking. Anderson kept typing furiously.

"Please let me talk to him," Henry said, trying hard to sound calmer.

"Now Mr. Spencer, you can't do that with a little more feeling? Pretend this young man actually means something to you." Gus cringed at the vicious comment made by the lunatic.

Henry slammed his fist on the table. "Damn you! Of course he means something to me. He's my son. Please, please let me talk to my boy."

"Was that so hard?"

The next thing Henry heard was soft and distressed singing, "Everybody was kong fu fighting," then a cough and a sad chuckle.

"Oh God," Gus said sitting down. He was relieved that his friend was still alive, but that almost didn't sound like Shawn.

"Shawn?" Henry said resting his forehead on the table, hand rubbing his face.

"Dad, is that you? Dad?" His son's voice was tired, slightly slurred, and raspy with a tremor of fear.

"Yeah, son. It's me."

"Dad, you gotta help me, Dad. Please, Dad. You have to get me out of here. Please." The last please was cut off by a sob. Gus felt nauseous. Even Lassiter paled at the words. Anderson paused and kept going after Lassiter slapped his shoulder.

"Hey, kiddo. The whole police force, Gus, and I, we're working on it. I promise. I'm coming, buddy. I'm not going to stop until I find you." Henry said not hiding the tears in his own voice.

It was almost as if Shawn didn't hear a word of what Henry said, "He's going to let me die in here, Dad. Help me! Please. Dad!" Dad was a pitiful sob. It broke Henry's heart to hear that panic in his son's voice. The sounds of Shawn screaming and pounding on the walls around him were heard by all the room.

Gus whispered, "Calm down, Shawn." He put his hands to his forehead and arched his head back. The utter helplessness he felt was depressing. If it was like this for him, he could only imagine what Henry was feeling. He looked at the older Spencer when Henry started talking again.

"Shawn, Shawn! Son, stop. Shawn, you have to calm down. Shawn," he tried to get through to his son. Shawn's terrified screams were cut off by the dial tone. "No, no. NO!" Henry collapsed to the floor, screaming. "Why? WHY?! I'm going to kill you. You son of a bitch! I will rip your heart of your chest with my bare hands," he screamed and threw the phone at the wall. Gus and Lassiter moved quickly to him, kneeling next to him.

"Hey, we're going to find him, Henry. Soon," Lassiter said looking Henry in the eyes. Lassiter motioned to Gus to take over and Gus nodded his understanding. But before Lassiter could get up, Henry grabbed his arm

"I.., I can't listen to my boy sound like that anymore," Henry said. Lassiter and Gus could hear the anguish in his voice. "We need to find this bastard. _Now_," Henry said with venom that sent chills down both men's spines. Gus sat down next to Henry.

"I know. I need to see what we've got," Lassiter said. Henry nodded and released his arm. Lassiter moved to talk to Anderson. "Well, anything?"

"He's hiding his ISP. I've never seen that before. I need some more time. Can you get Jake back here?" Anderson asked.

"Yes. I'll call the Chief," Lassiter said.

Henry rubbed his hand over his face. "He's not going to last too much longer in there. Remember when he hid in the refrigerator?"

"When we were kids? Oh yeah, I remember," Gus said, grimacing at the memory.

"He never could stand small places after that. We need to find him before he has a panic-induced heart attack," Henry said sadly.

"We will. I hope," Gus said.

Just then Lassiter yelled, "O'Hara has a possible location."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Pop Goes the Weasel

About two hours earlier the same day

Juliet and Buzz pulled up to the small house in Long Beach. It was very early in the morning. Both sat in the car, staring at the house. "What are you going to tell her?" Buzz asked Juliet.

"I haven't actually figured it out yet. I just hope she answers the door at 1 a.m.," Juliet answered. Buzz nodded.

"What do you want me to do?" Buzz asked.

"Just come with me. Be a spare set of eyes and point anything out that you see. Come on. Let's go. We need to find something that will lead us to Shawn," Juliet said and exited the car. Buzz followed. They walked up the front walkway. Juliet took a deep breath before ringing the door bell. After about 5 minutes, she was about to press the button again when the door opened. A woman in her late sixties dressed in a pink bathrobe answered the door. The woman looked frazzled, her gray hair hung loosely around her shoulders in disarray.

"Why are you ringing my door bell at this time of night? Is something wrong?" Mrs. Cushing asked.

"I'm sorry about the time, ma'am. I'm Junior Detective Juliet O'Hara from the Santa Barbara Police Department. This is Officer Buzz McNabb. We're here about your son, Gary," Juliet said.

"Can I see some ID?" she asked. Juliet and Buzz flashed their badges to Mrs. Cushing. "Okay, you can come in and tell me what is going on."

The three settled in the living room. Buzz and Juliet sat on the couch and Mrs. Cushing on the chair across from them. "So what did my Gary do?"

"He's kidnapped a civilian consultant for the police department, Shawn Spencer," Juliet explained.

"And you know that Gary did this?" Gary's mother asked.

"He's called Shawn's father and..." Juliet paused, not sure how to explain the emotional torture that this woman's son was putting Henry and Shawn Spencer through.

"Spencer? This is Henry Spencer's son?"

"Yes, Mrs. Cushing. We need to find your son, before he kills Shawn Spencer."

"I don't understand why Gary would do this. Henry Spencer saved our lives from Gary's bastard of a father. Did he give a reason?"

"I'm not aware of his motivation, ma'am. Can we see his room?" Juliet asked.

"He wasn't here for very long before he moved to Santa Barbara, only about two days. I worked with his doctor to find that place he lived in and get him that job. But be my guest, look through whatever you need," she said and stood up. She showed the two officers to her son's old bedroom. "I'll leave you two alone to let you work. Let me know if you need anything."

Juliet and Buzz started to immediately scan the room. Buzz opened the desk drawers searching for some kind of clue. Juliet went into the closet. There were some old clothes hanging, but the bottom of the closet was empty. Juliet looked up and saw a briefcase at the top. "Buzz," she said and he moved next to her, "Can you get that down for me?"

"Sure," he said pulling it down and handed it to her. She dropped it on the bed and opened up the briefcase. There was a notebook and some paperwork. Juliet handed the notebook to Buzz.

"Look through this for me. Let me know if you see anything," she said. She shuffled through the paperwork and stopped when she came to a deed. It was a deed to a warehouse in Santa Barbara. The name on the deed was Mary Cushing, but the previous owner was an Edwin Callahan. "Oh my. I think we have a location to search, Buzz." When she got no response, she turned to look at him. He looked slightly pale as he stared at a page of the notebook. "What is it, Buzz?"

"He's describing what he calls his new approach emotional therapy. He says that it is a combination of today's traditional therapy with some of his father's abusive methods. He is suggesting that scaring the heck out of someone will get them to admit their true feelings and in essence get to the root of their mental issues. This guy is seriously twisted," Buzz said. He shivered slightly.

Juliet paled, "Let's call the Chief with what we found."

"Shawn. Shawn, how are you doing? I would have thought talking to your dad would have made you feel better. He did beg me to talk to you, so at least you know he cares about you," Gary taunted.

Shawn had calmed down some since his recent outburst. Just hearing that familiar voice made Shawn suddenly feel like he was nine again and praying for his father to rescue him. He was really getting tired of this guy. Shawn lashed out, "Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP! You're one sick bastard. Is this how you get your kicks, by torturing me and my father?"

"I'm not trying to hurt your father. Unlike you, I have a lot of respect for your father. This is about helping him, but he doesn't seem to want my help. You see Shawn; I understand what it feels like to disappoint your father. But yours cares about you anyway," Gary answered.

"Help, how is this helping anyone? Let me GO, you maniac," Shawn hoarsely yelled at him. Gary switched off the speaker. He watched Shawn yelling something. This kid never stopped with the rude comments. Gary turned off the light and fan. His plan had been fun, but it wasn't working out like he wanted it to. Shawn hadn't completely cracked yet. Gary looked at his watch. According to his plan, his time was running out, well, his and Shawn's. Gary's cell phone rang.

"Hello," Gary answered.

"Gary, its Mom. There are two police officers from Santa Barbara here. They say that you have kidnapped Henry Spencer's son. What are you doing? You need to let that young man go. Your antics are affecting me now."

"Mom, you don't understand. You said I need to have a plan for my life. I really wanted to help someone, a family. That's all I'm trying to do. I guess this might not work out like I hoped. Did they find my briefcase yet?"

"I don't know. They're in your room no," she told him. He hung up on her.

He shook his head. He knew it was a matter of time before they found his notes and the deed for the warehouse. He had tried to help the Spencers, but he had failed. There just wasn't enough time. It was just like his father had always said, he failed at everything. Well maybe his father was wrong, all was not lost. It was time for the second part of his plan: to get his revenge on the system that doomed him to foster care and mental institutions. The police would soon be headed to the warehouse. So he better get a move on if he wanted to be there when they arrived. He had a lot of prep work to do.

He switched on the speaker, "Shawn, any messages for your friends in blue or Gus?"

"What? What are you going to do? Don't you hurt anyone, you freak," Shawn whispered angrily. It was getting harder to keep yelling.

"It's you that I would be worrying about, Shawn. I have this set-up so it gives them about four hours to find you. If not, you're as good as dead. I'd like to say it was nice to know you, but that would be a lie. Bye, Shawn."

Shawn felt the terror of dying hit him at full force. It felt like his heart was pounding in his ears, but he was too exhausted to panic and just passed out.

Gary arrived at the warehouse and unlocked the padlock on the front door. He didn't have much time. He walked quickly to the upper office and entered. It was all there. He smiled. He was surprised how easily he found plans to make a bomb on the Internet. The electronics to detonate were easy to find as well. He had a one last call to make and he had to send a text message.

Gary smiled as he heard Henry answer the phone. Gary said, "Hello again, Henry. Your friends think they're on the right track, huh?"

"Please, just let him out of there. I'll tell you whatever you want. I'll give you whatever you want."

"Do you love him, Henry?"

"Of course I do. He makes me nuts, but I do."

"Why?"

"He's my son."

"That's it? That's the only reason? That's not a good enough reason," a suddenly angry Gary yelled. "If that's true, why didn't my father love me?"

"I don't know what else you want me to say. Your father had issues," Henry said, trying to keep his voice calm.

"You two are infuriating. He won't do anything but scream at me and you give me stupid answers. I'm tired of this insubordination. You're not playing by the rules. I'm only sorry that I'll miss seeing your face at his funeral. Time's up, Henry."

Henry stood up quickly and yelled, "Cushing, if you kill my son, there will be no place in this world where you'll be safe from me. Do you hear me, Cushing? I'll destroy you." Henry heard muffled shouting and other sounds in the background.

"That might be difficult. They're here," Gary said, "Gotta go blow up some cops. Bye, Henry Spencer."

"Cushing!" Henry yelled into the phone as he heard it drop on the other end. Henry turned to Anderson and Gordon. Gordon was all ready on his cell phone.

"You need to get out of there. He has some kind of bomb or something. He just told Mr. Spencer. Detective?" Gordon stopped talking and looked pale. "Oh no."

Gus couldn't shake the feeling that this was too easy. Convincing Henry Spencer to stay at his house hadn't been, but finding the information in Gary's room at his mother's home, it was too easy. Gus could practically hear Shawn protesting in his head, "Gus, why would a guy that went to this much trouble just give his location away that easily? Come on dude, think."

"It's too easy," Gus said out loud. Lassiter turned to look at him.

"What?" Lassiter asked.

"This is too easy. It's a trap," Gus said, looking at Lassiter.

"For heaven's sake, Spencer, I mean, Guster. What are you talking about? This is just good police work." The two men turned from their location at the warehouse door to see the commotion inside. A man had just exited an office that was located on the second level and he was walking down the stairs. Someone yelled, "That's Cushing." He was wearing a hat and sunglasses. He held his hands up when he saw that several officers had their weapons trained on him. There was something strapped to his body. Lassiter saw it the same time Gus did. Lassiter looked at Gus. Gus nodded. Lassiter whispered, "Oh crap."

Lassiter heard his phone ring. He looked at the caller ID and picked up. He didn't say a word and listened to Jake Gordon's voice confirming what he and Gus all ready knew. The man turned to his 'audience' and nervously said, "Mr. Spencer is not here. Sorry to disappoint you, Gus. Give Henry my condolences on the death of his son."

Lassiter yelled, "Bomb, down NOW!" His phone dropped to the ground as he pointed his gun in the direction of the suspect, but all he heard and felt was the concussion of the blast. Gus' last thoughts as he dived for cover were that he could swear that his phone was vibrating.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Explosion Confusion

Juliet, Buzz, and Mrs. Cushing were heading down highway 101 back to Santa Barbara. The Chief insisted that Mrs. Cushing come back to station to give a statement. The woman had come along very reluctantly. She said she felt for poor Mr. Spencer, but this wasn't her problem. Buzz explained how it would be a problem for her if she were arrested for obstructing justice. Juliet saw the fear in the woman's eyes as she then agreed to come along. Juliet was so proud of Buzz's assertiveness. They sped down the highway in hopes of making it back to Santa Barbara in record time.

Henry stared at the young technician on his cell phone. "What's going on?" Henry asked, "Can you hear anything?"

Jake just stared at the floor. All he heard was a loud explosion and now there was nothing. How could he tell this father that his son was probably in a hundred different pieces right now? He made eye contact with Ryan. Ryan shrugged and went back to his typing on the computer.

"It sounded like an explosion. Detective Lassiter yelled bomb and then all I heard was an explosion," Jake said softly. Henry sat down in a kitchen chair.

"Mr. Spencer, we don't know what happened yet," Jake said, trying to reassure the worried father.

"Gus was there too. They both might be gone," Henry whispered.

"Yes! Ha," Ryan said standing up. Jake and Henry looked at him, aghast.

"Oh, sorry, but the phone calls weren't coming from that warehouse," Ryan said smiling, "I've pinpointed the area to a two-mile radius on the other side of town."

"That doesn't mean that Shawn wasn't at the warehouse, moron," Jake said to him.

"Yeah, but it doesn't mean he was, idiot. Think about it. Cushing is all about the emotional torture. Sorry, Mr. Spencer," Ryan said, realizing his crudeness.

"Don't worry about it. Go on," Henry said, interested in the young man's theory.

"So, let's say he just lead everyone to a decoy location and detonated a bomb. He kills himself in the blast. He knows that we'll be discouraged when we find that Shawn was never there and now we can't get the information from him to find Shawn. He gets to continue his reign of terror. Except, now it's narrowed down to a two-mile radius," Ryan said, beaming.

"Holy cow, that actually makes sense," Jake said and jumped when Ryan slapped him on the back of the head

"So, now what do we do?" Ryan asked.

"I'll try to call the Chief. You two try to get a hold of Gus and Lassiter," Henry said.

Debris sailed through the air, as Gus raised his head. Thankfully, the explosion was not as big as it sounded. Gus coughed as he sat up. Suddenly, Lassiter was standing over him. "Guster? Gus, are you all right?" the detective asked concerned. Gus shook his head, trying to clear it. Lassiter knelt down next to him. "Gus?"

Gus looked up at the detective's face, noticing the dirt. "Yes, I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"Yes. I need to go and see if any else needs help," and with that Gus watched Lassiter run toward the smoke where the explosion originated. Gus sat for a minute, trying to recollect his thoughts.

"Oh no, Shawn!" The horrible realization that his best friend was in that building hit him at full force. He stood up and tried to follow Lassiter into the smoke. Chaos was erupting around him, as the fire department and other emergency vehicles arrived. He was ushered outside by one of the fire fighters. He heard his phone ringing. He noticed that he had missed two calls, but answered the phone.

"Hello," Gus said.

"Mr. Guster, its Ryan Anderson for the SBPD. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Cushing had a bomb. I'm not sure if Shawn was in there or not."

Gus noticed that Karen Vick had just pulled up to the scene. She rushed into the warehouse.

"Mr. Spencer wanted us to make sure you were okay," Ryan told him.

"Tell him thanks for me. I'll call you with an update as soon as I have one," Gus said hanging up the phone. He checked his missed calls and saw a text message.

He opened the message, "He'll be where all my rage began." Gus froze. Gary sent him a message, a message about Shawn's location. Gus paced around; he needed to talk to Lassiter and the Chief. Then Gus jumped up and down with joy. Shawn was still alive, he knew he was, and they needed to find him. _Now_.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: The Clock is Ticking

The small group of people gathered in the conference room of the Santa Barbara Police Station. Ryan Anderson and Jake Gordon were setting up the projector and their computers. The Chief was at the head of the table on the phone. Lassiter and Juliet were flipping through files. While Gus and Henry sat on one side of the table and watched the flurry of activity. Karen hung up the phone and said, "Okay people, let's recap what we have so far. Lassiter."

"Chief, can I interrupt for a second?" Gus said politely.

"I'll get to you, Mr. Guster. Lassiter," she said sternly.

"Well, the warehouse location was a trap. Cushing was wearing a vest filled with C4 and detonated it, killing himself. So far, there is no evidence that Spencer was ever there. I have the Crime Scene boys going over what's left of the office with a fine tooth comb. They're looking for enough of Cushing to make a positive ID. We just want to be 100 certain. They'll call us with any updates," Lassiter explained.

"Was anyone else hurt?" Henry asked.

"Luckily, nothing serious. Two officers were treated for smoke inhalation, some other minor cuts and burns," Lassiter said and shared a look with Gus. Gus knew that was as close to a thank you as he was going to get from the stoic detective.

"O'Hara, what did you find at the mother's place?" The Chief asked.

"Chief, seriously, this is important," Gus demanded.

"Gus, in a minute," the Chief said. Gus was starting to get mad, darn his good manners.

"Well, we found a briefcase that contained the deed to the warehouse and a notebook. The notebook details pretty graphically the suspect's plan for emotional therapy. It mentions the hostility that this man had against the system that put him in foster care. He hates his mother, and his therapist. He talks a lot about the foster family that he attacked and you, Mr. Spencer," Juliet said, looking up at Henry. "He found out why you couldn't see him before he went into foster care."

"Right, I told him that. Shawn was in the hospital that night for observation," Henry said knowingly, and then he understood. "He knew about Shawn's fear of confined spaces?"

"Yes. He got a hold of the hospital records about the incident where Shawn was trapped inside a refrigerator as a child. He used that fear in order to perform his so-called therapy," Juliet continued.

"So, he's been planning this for some time then?" Lassiter asked.

"Well, I think he's been hoping to conduct his therapy for a while and Shawn was just at the wrong place, wrong time," Juliet theorized.

"I'm not sure about that. Cushing was asking questions about Shawn and Henry before Shawn walked in the office," Vick said.

"Okay, that's all great information, but that's not helping us find Shawn. He's running out of time," Henry said angrily.

"Cushing sent me a text message," Gus stood up and yelled.

Everyone stared at him. "Why didn't you say so? What did it say?" Karen asked.

"I tried to tell you, several times. The message read, 'He'll be where all my rage began'," Gus said.

"That should help us narrow down his location," Henry said.

Karen nodded, "What do you two have on the phone traces?" She asked the two technicians.

"Well, we've traced the origins of all the phone calls down to a two-mile radius. Here," Ryan explained, projecting the map on the screen.

"That's a big area to cover. Do we have any ideas how much time we actually have to find Spencer?" Lassiter asked.

"Looking at the size of the box, the time Cushing might have left him, I'm estimating about more two hours and he'll be out of air," Jake said. The room fell eerily silent.

"This message that Cushing sent to Gus demonstrates that this man has acted very deliberately. We need to find to this place that he is referencing. What is in this radius that means something to Cushing?" Karen stated. Juliet and Lassiter were flipping through files.

"Where's his mother? We should get her up here. She may know something we don't," Henry said. Karen picked up the phone.

"Could it be his parent's house, where he grew up and his father was killed?" Lassiter said.

"No, that's in the other part of town," Henry said.

"The family that he attacked, what is that address?" Juliet asked. Lassiter turned to the page in the file. He looked up to the map.

"Holy Christmas, that's it!" Lassiter exclaimed jumping to his feet.

"I'll mobilize the units. Go, go, go! Lassiter and O'Hara, take Mr. Spencer and Mr. Guster with you," Karen yelled to their retreating forms.

Ryan and Jake high-fived each other. "Good job, gentleman," Karen told them as she mobilized her troops.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Rescue Me 

Shawn lay in the dark, stuffy chamber and tried to focus on anything other than his overwhelming despair. No one knew where he was. If he was right, Gary had killed himself and tried to take a few other people with him. He, Shawn Spencer, was going to die. Alone. Without thanking Gus for being the best friend a guy could ask for. Without ever seriously asking Juliet out on a date. Without ever being able to tease Lassiter again about something, anything. Without ever talking to his mom again and telling her he loved her. And without seeing his Dad again, even for a stupid argument. Gary was right, he and his father had issues, but it didn't mean he didn't care about the man and Shawn knew his father cared about him. He closed his eyes and focused on shallow breathing. At least, he would try to hold on as long as he could and hope that someone would find him in time. The morbid thought crossed his mind that at least either way, this nightmare would be over.

Lassiter's car and the other police cruiser that accompanied it came to a screeching halt in front of the little single story house. The back doors of the Lassiter's car were open before it fully came to a stop. "Freeze," Lassiter yelled. Gus and Henry stopped. "You two will wait until we give the all clear. We don't know if this place has been booby-trapped or even if anyone is still living here. You're civilians. Got it?" Lassiter stared at Henry while he said that.

"Yes, sir," Gus replied. Henry just glared at the detective.

"I will call you in as soon as I find him. McNabb, you and Jones stay at the front door. O'Hara let's move."

The pair drew their weapons and walked up the porch. Juliet rang the doorbell. Lassiter shot her an annoyed look. She smirked at him. Lassiter attempted to turn the knob and he was surprised when the door opened. He signaled to his partner that he was going in and that she should cover him. Lassiter stepped through the front door. The smell that greeted his nostrils almost made him nauseous. It reeked of death. The living room was empty, so he proceeded to the back bedrooms with Juliet following behind. Finding nothing, they entered the kitchen. The first sight that greeted them was a dead body. It was an older man in his late sixties. He was seated at the kitchen table with an apparent gunshot to the head. Due to the smell and appearance of the body, he must been dead for at least two days.

Henry paced around on the front lawn, getting madder and madder by the minute. His son, his only child, was inside that building, suffocating and he was relegated to civilian status after over twenty years on the force. He closed his eyes to gather his emotions. Then he stared at house trying to find some clue. There was a basement, which meant there might be a backdoor to the basement on the outside of the house. Henry smiled, "Let's go, Gus."

"What? Where? I'm not leaving until they find Shawn," Gus sputtered.

Henry softly explained, "There's a basement. There's probably a back way into it. Let's go and find out." Henry started walking to the back of the house.

Gus shook his head and smirked. "Like father, like son," he thought and quickly followed.

Henry and Gus were about half way around the side of the house when Buzz said, "You can't go back there." Henry turned and glared at Buzz. He was about to walk toward the young man and tell him off, when Buzz added, "Without some help." The young officer smiled and then walked by Henry into the backyard. Henry was shocked and glanced at Gus, who shrugged. Both men quickly ran after him.

In the backyard, there was a set of doors that were an exterior entrance to the basement. Buzz was standing over the doors and unlocking the clasps. He threw open the doors and Henry rushed past him down the steps into the basement. The dark, damp environment had an eerie feel and Henry shivered. Behind him, Buzz and Gus came down the steps and stopped behind him. Buzz turned on his flashlight. The basement was bigger than it appeared. There was a doorway straight ahead. Henry walked over to it and found it locked. He was about to try to use his shoulder to knock it in when Buzz put his hand on Henry's shoulder. "Let me, Mr. Spencer." Henry nodded and moved aside. The door came crashing down in two strikes of Buzz's foot. Henry, Gus, and Buzz entered the new room. Outside the sounds of sirens signaled the approach of more help. Gus found a light switch and flipped it up, flooding the room with fluorescence light.

The sight that greeted the trio stopped them in their tracks. A large wooden box about eight feet wide and five feet tall sat in the middle of the room. It was attached to some sort of fan or vacuum. There was a camera on one end with a light that was switched off. Gus ran over to the computer he saw on a table in the corner. He touched the mouse which brought the screen to life. He nearly fell over when he saw Shawn. "He's in there. Holy crap, he's in there. You have to get him out," Gus yelled.

Henry and Buzz stopped their individual examination of the wooden fortress. The box was put together meticulously. The joints were sealed tightly with some sort of epoxy, sealing the air in. The only way to get in was to cut the wood. Henry thought he had seen an axe in the first room that they were in. He grabbed Buzz's flashlight out of his hand and ran back into the first room. He yanked the axe off the wall and came back to the wood box. "Whoa, wait. What if you hit Shawn?" Buzz asked.

"It looks like there's another box inside this one. Just don't swing too hard," Gus said.

"I won't," Henry said and he swung his arm back. Just then the door at the top of the steps opened. Carlton Lassiter stood looking down at the trio.

"Stop! Didn't I tell you two to wait outside?" he bellowed. Henry ignored him and made contact with the wood. "Spencer, stop," Lassiter said holstering his gun and coming down the stairs. He grabbed Henry's shoulder and pushed him to the side.

Henry gave Lassiter what Shawn had deemed the 'death glare'. "Lassiter, _my_ _son_ is in this deathtrap. So unless you what me to chop your damn head off, _get the hell out of my way_," he said furiously and pushed the detective out of the way.

"Henry, give me the axe. I'll do it," Lassiter said, pulling off his coat. Henry reluctantly handed him the tool and Lassiter began the work of hitting the wood. As he worked, more policemen and women came downstairs. Then a few firefighters came down and joined in the chopping. The wood fell away and the clear Plexiglas box was visible. Everyone stopped and stared for a minute. Henry rushed over and tried to find a way to open it. The lid was fastened by numerous screws lining the edges of the box. It was hard to see Shawn, because of the material fogging up due his breathing. He knocked on the box hoping for some kind of response. "Get a drill down here now!" one of fire rescuers called.

"What about a saw? It would be faster," Lassiter said.

"I don't want to saw the poor guy's arm or leg off," the man answered. Gus paled at that comment.

Henry kept knocking at the glass, trying to get Shawn's attention. He thought he saw his son blink, but it was hard to tell. Two drills appeared and the rescue workers moved quickly to work on removing the lid. Henry hovered close by. The lid was off in a matter of minutes. The anxious father quickly moved to be near his son's head. He saw that Shawn was breathing, although shallowly and smiled in relief. But then he noticed that the younger man hadn't reacted at all to what was happening around him, his worry increased tenfold.

"Shawn? Shawn, its Dad. Shawn?" Henry said gently shaking Shawn's shoulders, each word getting more frantic. Shawn's dazed hazel eyes were open, but unfocused and he hadn't acknowledged anyone was even there. The most frightening thing was that he hadn't said a word. Gus stood to the side and watched with concern as Henry tried to get Shawn's attention.

"Sir, please. We need to get him out of there," one of the paramedics, who had just arrived, said. Henry nodded and he grabbed underneath Shawn's arms and helped the medics pull him out of his prison. Gus moved to the side and helped support Shawn's torso. Henry looked down at his son as they were moving him. Now Shawn's eyes were finally focused on him, tears slowly streaming out of the corners. He felt the younger man starting to tremble as he was placed on the stretcher. Henry was about to say something reassuring to Shawn, when the paramedics pushed him out of the way.

"No, wait. Let me talk to him," Henry said as he tried to maneuver his way around to Shawn's side. By the time Henry could look at him again, Shawn had his eyes squeezed closed and he was anxiously whispering, "Dad. Dad." The paramedics ignored the young man's father and one tried to get an I.V. in his patient's arm. He must have missed the vein, because Shawn hoarsely howled in pain. It was the most noise that anyone had heard him make.

"STOP," Henry bellowed and all the activity around came to a stop. Shawn had started panting and Henry pushed aside the inept medic. He grasped his son's hand.

"Shawn, open your eyes. Look at me, bud. Come on," he calmly told his son. He placed his hand on Shawn's cheek. The lax hand he was holding suddenly gripped his fiercely and the eyes flew open. His son looked directly at him. The wet hair clinging to Shawn's forehead made him appear much younger than his twenty-nine years.

"Dad? You came," Shawn slurred, between pants. The exhaustion was evident on his face and his voice sounded like he swallowed sandpaper. "Don't go. Don't leave me alone. Please," he said desperately.

"Hey, I'm not going to leave you. I promise. These people are trying to help you," Henry said gently patting his son's warm cheek and then angrily glaring at the medics. "Hey, Gus is here too." Henry looked over at his son's best friend.

"Hey, bud. Good to see you man," Gus said. Shawn turned his head toward Gus. A small smile appeared on Shawn's face, but never quite made it to his eyes. Gus seeing something moving at Shawn's side looked down and saw the fist being weakly held up. Gus bumped it with his fist and smiled back at his friend. Shawn nodded, closed his eyes and let his hand fall onto the gurney. Then the paramedics moved back in and began to work around him again. He kept his fierce grip on Henry's hand and Henry did not leave his son's side. When the medics were ready, one of them said, "Let's roll, people." And Shawn was headed off to the hospital.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Aftermath

Gus, Henry, Juliet, Carlton, and Buzz sat in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs hoping to hear something about their favorite "psychic". When the doctor entered the room, the group stood up. The doctor took a step back. "You're all here for Shawn Spencer," the doctor said smiling. When half of them nodded, he said, "Well, Shawn's a lucky person to have so many people that care about him."

"How's my son?" Henry asked. The doctor turned to face him.

"Shawn is doing remarkably well for everything he's been through. He is severely dehydrated, so we have him on I.V. fluids. His throat and vocal chords are very sore, so he won't be talking correctly for a few days. He also has a mild concussion from banging his head. He's running a slight fever, but we're monitoring that. Right now, I'm more concerned about how he's going to react mentally more than anything else," the doctor told them. "From what I understand, being in a confined space is a fear of his?"

Henry nodded, not really trusting his voice. Gus added, "He was traumatized by an experience as a child."

"Well, it wouldn't surprise me if he experienced some anxiety attacks after this. It may not even be right away. And sometimes, it will be hard to tell what would set them off. I've sedated him because I want him to rest. You may want to insist that he stay with someone his first night out of here. But that's just a suggestion," the doctor said.

"Can we see him?" Henry asked.

"Sure, he's asleep, so he won't know you're there. He's in room 204."

"Thank you, doctor," Gus said.

After everyone sat with Shawn for a while, they slowly filed out. Around 8 p.m., Gus and Henry were the only two left in the room. They stared at the silent person on the bed.

"It's weird seeing him so still. It's not natural," Gus said jokingly.

"Yeah. When he was a kid, I remember putting pillows on both sides of his bed because you never knew what side he'd end up on," Henry said smiling. Gus laughed and then yawned.

"Gus, go home. Get some sleep in your own bed. I'll stay here," Henry offered.

"I should be saying that to you. You must be exhausted. I can stay," Gus told him.

"Well, I'm staying no matter what. So, get. Come back in the morning and harass the heck out of him. You know he'll need it."

Gus grinned, "You know he'll be harassing me. He can't seem to resist. Okay, if you're sure. I'll go home."

"I'm sure."

"Okay, I'll stop by his apartment and get some stuff for him," Gus said.

"Thanks, Gus. See you in the morning."

"Bye," Gus said and headed out.

Henry stretched out as much as he could on the small couch in Shawn's hospital room. He glanced over at his son again just to reassure himself that his child was safe and alive. Shawn looked to still be resting comfortably, so Henry decided to get some rest.

About two hours later, Henry opened his eyes for some reason. He lay there in the pale light of the room, expecting to hear the soft sounds of his son sleeping. He heard something else. Not being certain what the noise was, he sat up. He was surprised to see what he did. Shawn was sitting up, pillow clutched to his chest, and all Henry could see was the brown hair on the top of his son's head. Shawn's face was buried in the pillow. Henry stood up quietly, but quickly, and went to his son's side. He gently placed a hand on Shawn's shoulder and surprised when he jumped. The look of pure terror on his son's face had Henry sitting on the mattress in two seconds. Shawn was breathing rapidly and Henry remembered the doctor's comments about panic attacks.

"It's okay. You're safe now. Remember? We got you out," Henry said. It was Henry's turn to jump when Shawn grabbed onto him. Henry quickly wrapped his arms around his son. He rubbed Shawn's back with one hand. The other rested at the base of his son's neck. Henry cringed at the sound of ragged sobbing. He gripped his son tighter hoping to stop some of his boy's shaking. At that moment, he had the desire to kill Gary Cushing all over again. They sat like that for about five minutes. Shawn seemed to get his breathing back under control.

Henry heard a muttered, gravelly, "Sorry," from his son, whose head had not moved from its resting-place against his father's chest. "Its okay, kid. Are you all right?" Henry asked. Shawn pushed away and Henry helped him lay back against the raised mattress. Henry was about to put the pillow back behind Shawn's head, when Shawn grabbed it and gripped it tightly.

"Shawn?" Henry asked again, when he got no answer to his question. The tired red-rimmed eyes that were staring into space turned to him.

"Hmm? Oh, I'm fine," Shawn whispered, but at his father's disbelieving expression added, "Now."

"Want to talk about it?" Henry asked and almost laughed at Shawn's incredulous facial expression.

"What have you done with my father?" Shawn said softly, smirking slightly.

Henry smiled, despite himself. "Listen, wise guy, sometimes it helps to talk about it."

"Just a bad dream. I, I…," Shawn paused and looked up at his dad. "I dreamt I was back there again. When I woke up, it was dark. I thought for a moment that I didn't get out. I panicked."

"Listen, the doctor said you might do that for a while. I wouldn't be surprised if we all didn't have nightmares about this," Henry said, patting Shawn's leg.

"Is he, I mean, did they….," Shawn stuttered, not sure how to ask the question.

"Yes, he's dead. Blew himself up. I'm not really sure I understand his motivation for all this. It just doesn't make sense."

"Dad, I'd worry if you understood him. He was crazy," Shawn said and yawned. "How can I still be tired?"

"The doctor sedated you earlier to help you rest. It's a drug hangover. You want me to see if they'll give you something to help you sleep?"

Shawn thought for a moment and shook his head, "No, I'll be fine. You're staying, right?"

Henry saw a flash of fear in Shawn's eyes. Henry was so stunned by the question, he didn't respond right away. Never one to deal with silence well, Shawn started nervously rambling. "I mean, 'cause you don't have to, unless you want to. I'll be.."

Henry interrupted, "Shawn, stop. I'm staying, with or without your permission. And by the way, you're staying at my house next week."

"Okay. Good," Shawn said, stunned by his Dad's reaction.

"Now, close your eyes and go to sleep," Henry demanded.

"Can you tuck me in and read me a story too, Daddy?" Shawn quipped with a smirk.

Henry shook his head in laughter as he moved back over to the couch. A few minutes later, he looked over at Shawn. His son was fast asleep again. He settled in and got comfortable.

Henry woke up when he felt someone standing over him. He opened his eyes to see the dark, cold eyes of Gary Cushing. "Hello, Henry," Gary said.

"Wait, you're dead," Henry said not completely awake. He noticed the large knife in Gary's hand. Henry slowly tried to sit up. Gary put his hand on the older man's chest stopping his movement.

"I'm afraid that the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. I've always wanted to say that," Gary said with an evil smile.

"What do you want, Gary?"

"Well, things didn't really turn out the way I hoped they would. Shawn wasn't supposed to come out of this alive, especially since you two decided not to cooperate with me. But he should be easy to polish off, being sedated and all. He's practically dead to the world. Don't worry, Henry. Your boy won't feel a thing, but I'm afraid that you will."

Shawn thought he heard voices, but he didn't feel like opening his eyes to see who it was. He knew he heard his dad, but who was the other voice? He froze when he realized it was Gary. He listened to what was being said. He slowly turned his head away from the voices and when he was sure he couldn't be seen, he opened his eyes. He spotted the bed pan sitting on the table. "Wow. Do they really still use bed pans?" he thought. He disconnected his IV and slowly reached out and grabbed the stainless steel pan.

All Henry wanted to do was reach up and strangle the man standing over him. He decided to try reasoning with him, "Listen, Gary. Why don't you put the knife down? Turn yourself in. Clearly you still need help."

"I don't need help, you do! I'm tired of telling you this over and ov…," Gary's last word was cut off by a loud metallic ping of metal striking skull. From his kneeling position on the bed, Shawn had clocked Cushing hard in the head with the bed pan. The man moved back stunned, giving Henry enough time to get to his feet. By that time, Cushing had the front of Shawn's hospital gown in his fist and he was starting to swing the knife in Shawn's direction. Shawn was so startled that the man didn't fall down from the blow to the head; he had let the pan slip from his fingers. Defenseless and still groggy, Shawn was an easy target for Cushing.

When Henry turned around to see his son about to be attacked by this vicious monster, he snapped. He used his shoulder to drive Cushing into the wall hard. The stunned criminal dropped the knife as he collided with the wall. Henry spun the man around and put his hands around Cushing's neck and began to squeeze. Shawn, who had fallen back against the mattress of the bed, saw what his father was doing. He heard Gary gasp for air. There was a small part of him that wanted to let his father just strangle the man to death. He jumped up next to his dad. He put his hands on his father's forearms and looked his father right in the eyes.

"Dad, no! You don't want to do this," Shawn pleaded.

"Yes, I do, Shawn. Very much," Henry growled, his eyes not moving from the object of his rage.

"No, Dad. You'll regret it. He's not worth it. Let the police handle him. Please."

Shawn knew he was starting to get through to his dad, when for a split second, his dad looked at him. "He's not worth it, but you are," Henry said, returning his eyes to Cushing.

Shawn blinked in disbelief. "Then don't kill him. I don't want you to go to jail." Henry started to loosen his grip and Shawn saw Cushing take a small breath.

All of a sudden, the hospital room door slammed open. Lassiter and O'Hara rushed in. "Cushing's not dead. He's alive. The body at the warehouse was not…" Lassiter started to explain, but stopped when he saw Cushing's neck in Henry Spencer's hands. He drew his weapon and Juliet did the same. Shawn's eyes widened in fear when he saw their guns were drawn.

"No, Lassie, Jules. Don't," Shawn said, taking one hand off his dad's arm and holding it up in a stop motion.

"Henry, let him go. Let us take him into custody," Lassiter commanded. The elder Spencer just gripped Cushing's neck harder.

Shawn looked at his dad and then back to Lassiter. It was too much for his weary mind to handle, he was starting to feel very light-headed. Henry looked at his son when he felt the hand that was gripping his forearm slipping. The hazel eyes closed and the color had drained from the once rosy cheeks. Shawn was going down. Henry dropped his hands from Cushing's neck and made a grab to catch his son. Henry was able to get his arms around Shawn's waist before he completely collapsed to the floor. Cushing slid down the wall coughing. Recovering quickly, Cushing fumbled for the knife, as Lassiter and Juliet rounded the bed to get closer to the scene. Henry struggled to move his son out of harm's way, by putting his back to Cushing.

"Freeze! Drop the knife," Lassiter bellowed as Cushing clutched the blade. On his knees, Cushing looked at Lassiter, then to Henry.

Cushing smiled, "Look what I reduced him to, Henry. Passes out like a little girl. You should be so proud." Henry felt his blood pressure rising. He held his burden a little tighter.

"I said drop the knife, _now_," Lassiter repeated with more anger. Cushing looked at Lassiter with a deranged smile and then he attempted to move his legs to start to stand. Lassiter fired a round into the suspect's knee. Cushing cried out, dropping the weapon, and clutching his knee. Buzz McNabb and another officer burst into the room. Lassiter and Juliet were cuffing Cushing.

"Buzz, help Mr. Spencer," Juliet told him.

"Oh, sure," Buzz said, running over to help Henry move Shawn over to the bed. They got him situated. Henry lightly tapped on Shawn's cheek.

"Come on, bud. Fun's all over," he said.

Hearing the commotion and the gunshot, a couple of nurses and a doctor came into the room. Cushing was wheeled off on a gurney still handcuffed with a police escort. Juliet whispered to Henry that she'd be back later.

Shawn opened his eyes and found two people staring at him, his dad and the doctor. "Hey, what's going on?" Shawn asked.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Spencer?" the doctor asked, shining his pen light in the younger Spencer's eyes.

"I'm good, just beat," he said and glanced over at his concerned father.

"Well, I think it was the stress that made you pass out," the doctor said reassuringly, "Let's get this IV back in." The doctor fixed the IV and off he went.

Henry stood at the foot of the bed and didn't say a word. Shawn looked at him and said, "So, what do you say to barricading the door and sleeping in for about two weeks?"

It produced the desired effect when Henry looked up at him and smiled. "That's just like you, dragging out your downtime for longer than necessary."

"You know me; never miss an opportunity to slack off. You okay, Dad?"  
"I'm fine. Get some rest, kid."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Things to Do Before You Die by Shawn Spencer

The next day Gus arrived to find Shawn flipping through channels on the television. His best friend still looked pretty tired, but better than when they first found him. "Hey, I brought you a smoothie," Gus said to get his attention.

Shawn looked over at him and smiled. But it wasn't the normal Shawn Spencer happy-go-lucky smile. Gus was slightly worried. "Pineapple?" Shawn asked voice still hoarse.

"Of course, unlike some people, I know my best friend's favorite kind of smoothie," Gus teased as he handed the cup to Shawn. He felt bad though when Shawn frowned. "Hey, I was joking."

"I know," Shawn said and coughed, "Listen, I was doing some thinking when I was…, when you think you're going to…," Shawn sighed, and looked away from his friend. The straw in the cup became the most interesting thing in the world. Gus came around the bed and sat down.

"You okay?" Gus said.

"Yeah, I'm good. Okay, I'm just going to say it," Shawn said, looking up at Gus, "Thanks for being the best, best friend a guy could ask for."

Gus was shocked and both friends sat in silence for a second.

"Did that seem totally girly to you?" Shawn asked.

"Yes, completely, but thanks. It's nice to hear," Gus said.

Henry entered the room. "Hey, Gus. Did Shawn tell you about all the excitement we had last night, well, this morning?"

"No," Gus said glancing at Shawn. Shawn shrugged and sipped on his smoothie.

"Cushing showed up here, with a knife," Henry told him. Gus stared at him in shock.

"He was dead. Wasn't he?" Gus asked.

"The remains in the warehouse weren't his. Lassiter said that it was the son of the man they found dead in the house. They identified him from a finger they found at the explosion," Henry told him.

"So, where's Cushing now?" Gus inquired.

"Downstairs in a room. Lassiter shot him in the leg. I'm fairly certain that man will not see the light of day outside a mental institution ever again," Henry said.

"Let's hope not," Gus said.

"Shawn. Shawn?" Henry said trying to get his son's attention. Shawn was staring down at the smoothie cup. When Henry waved a hand in front of his face, he looked up.

"The doctor's releasing you. As soon as you're ready, we can go to my house," Henry said.

Gus added, "Yeah, here's some stuff I picked up at your apartment." He held up a bag.

"Thanks, bud. I'll go shower and change," Shawn said grabbing the bag and tossing the empty smoothie cup in the trash on the way to the bathroom.

When he was sure that he heard the shower, Gus turned to Henry. "Is he okay?"

"I think so. He seems a little out of it. Maybe he's still tired. I'll make sure he gets some sleep. You want to come by for dinner tonight?"

"Sounds good. Tell him I'll talk to him later. I need to run by Psych and check messages and go do my route. Six okay for dinner?"

"Yep. See you then," Henry said. Gus headed out the door. Henry sat and patiently waited for Shawn to come out of the bathroom. Five minutes later a clean-shaven Shawn walked out with his bag. Henry stared at him.

"What? Do I have shaving cream on my nose?" Shawn asked, a little uncomfortable with the staring.

"No. This is the first time I've seen you actually shave in about fifteen years. Just surprised."

An expression of pain flashed around Shawn's face. "I just felt so…dirty. I wanted to shave. Don't get used to it. I look like I'm about twelve," Shawn said with a smile.

"Twelve, don't exaggerate. Eighteen, tops," Henry teased.

After some paperwork was signed, the two Spencer men headed down to Henry's truck. Both men climbed in and drove in the direction of Henry's house. Shawn noticed that his father was staring at him for about the tenth time since they got into the truck.

"Whatever you do, don't cut the red one," Shawn said in the cab of his father's truck.

"What?" Henry asked, confusion marring his face and crinkling his forehead.

"You've been glancing at me every 3.5 seconds since we got in the truck. It's like I'm a time bomb you're expecting to go off at any second." He told his father. Shawn wasn't sure if he was angry with him or if he found his father's protective weariness funny.

"I just want to make sure you're okay. The doctor said you could have those panic attacks at any time," Henry told him. His concern was evident.

"Well, stop, okay? You're making me nervous."

"I can't worry about my kid?"

"Sure, but do you have to do it so openly? I was happy with the old way. We argue, I storm off angry, you chuckle at my expense, but somehow I get the message. This new thing you've got going on is kinda weirding me out." Shawn gave a mock shiver. "How 'bout I just tell you if I feel like I'm about to have a. . . a thing?"

"Okay, fair enough," Henry said, trying to keep his eyes on the road. He heard the passenger window being open. He glanced over. Shawn had his head leaning on the door with the window cracked open.

"You okay?" Henry asked.

"Dad," Shawn whined.

"Right. Sorry," Henry said. A few minutes later, they pulled into the driveway. "Gus is coming for dinner tonight. Around six."

"Sounds good. I'm going to go crash for a while," Shawn said as they headed into the house.

"Are you hungry?" Henry asked, but all he heard was the sound of the bedroom door slamming. "Some things never change," he muttered.

Dinner with his Dad and Gus had been fun. Dad threw some steaks on the grill. They ate, drank beer, and watched the Mets spank the Padres. Gus headed home with a promise to come by tomorrow. Shawn headed off to bed. It wasn't long before he dozed off.

_"Shawn, Shawn, tell me about your father?"_

Shawn jerked awake. He sat up, panting and gasping for breath. "Damn it!" he said as he threw a pillow on the floor. He decided to get up and get some fresh air. He found himself on the back porch. It was after 11 p.m. He knew calling her this late was a bad idea, but he felt the need to do so. He dialed the number and waited while it rang. "Hello?" the tired voice said.

He sighed when he heard her voice. He could feel the sting of tears at the corners of his eyes. "Mom, it's me," he said.

"Shawn, honey, you sound terrible. What's wrong? Did something happen to Gus? Or your dad?"

"No. No, everything's fine. I just wanted to hear your voice," he said as his voice cracked.

"Are you sick? Sweetie, I can tell something's wrong," she said sounding very concerned.

"Just a little cold. Nothing major. How have you been?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

"I'm doing well. Hon, you called me at eleven o'clock just to ask me how I am?" she asked.

"Shawn, what are you doing out here? You should be in bed," Henry said sticking his head out the sliding glass door.

"Are you with your father? Shawn Henry Spencer, what is going on?" his mom yelled at him.

He sighed deeply and ran his hand over his face. His father shook his head and closed the door. "Mom, listen. I'm fine. It doesn't matter what happened. I called to say that I love you and I don't tell you that enough."

"I love you too, darling. Go to bed before your bear of a father comes back and harasses you again," she said teasing.

"Night, Mom."

"And sweetie, when you're ready, call me and tell me what happened. Okay?"

"Yes ma'am. Night."

"Goodnight, baby."

He closed his cell phone and entered the house. His dad was standing against the kitchen counter.

"You okay?" Henry asked.

"I'm fine, Dad. Go back to bed."

"Did you tell her about what happened?" his father asked him.

"No, she doesn't need to know about that, this…whatever," he said, looking down. He started walking toward the bedroom.

"She'll be mad if she finds out from someone else," his father said calmly.

Shawn whirled around. "THEN YOU TELL HER!" Shawn shouted at him.

"Hey pal, don't you yell at me! I'm just trying to help," Henry yelled back.

"You know what, don't bother. I'm going to bed," Shawn said, storming off to his old bedroom. Henry sighed and shook his head.

The next morning, Shawn entered the kitchen and found Henry reading the paper coffee mug in hand. Shawn pulled out a mug and poured himself a cup. He sat at the table and grabbed himself a part of the paper. Henry looked up at him. "Did you sleep okay?" he asked his son.

"Yeah, not too bad. Coffee's good," Shawn said taking another sip.

"Good. Hey, about what happened last night," Henry started.

"You don't have to apologize, Dad," Shawn said not looking up.

"Apologize? You're the one that practically ripped my head off."

Shawn lifted his head. "I don't want to start this again."

"Sooner or later you're going to have to deal with this, Shawn. You can't just sweep it under the rug like you do everything else."

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" Shawn said angrily, "This coming from the man that told me to 'walk it off' when I skinned my knee falling off my tricycle."

"Oh sure, right away it's all MY fault."

"I was three years old Dad. And you are not the poster child for dealing with your emotions," Shawn yelled.

"You don't know anything about how I deal with my emotions."

"Exactly. Growing up it was always, 'you're letting your emotions get in the way', 'you're too happy', 'you're too angry', and my personal favorite, 'stop your damn bouncing around'."

"You're changing the subject. Look at me," Henry demanded.

Shawn refused to look at him.

"Shawn," Henry warned. The hazel eyes looked at him. "All I'm saying is that this was a traumatic experience for you. You need to talk to someone about it and the panic attacks. I'll talk to Karen and set up for you to talk to the department psychiatrist."

Shawn looked down and back up again. "I don't know, Dad," was the quiet response.

"Just go once, see how it goes. If it doesn't help, you don't have to go anymore. Okay?"

"Fine. But no one else knows about it, not even Gus," Shawn said. Henry looked at him with an expression of disbelief. "I'll probably tell him five minutes after I get the appointment, but the point is I want to tell him, when I'm ready."

"Deal. I'll take care of it," Henry said, heading to the phone.

"Dad," Shawn said. Henry turned to look at him. "Thanks."

"Gus! Gus, I see him. He's…he's hiding the memo," Shawn wailed as he swung his arms wildly in a 'psychic' fit. It was the first case that the Psych detectives had taken since the incident. Shawn seemed to be doing well. The talks with the department shrink were helping. He still had nightmares and occasionally slept with all the lights in his apartment on, but all in all he was doing okay. The Chief had called them in on a case. She was a little concerned at first that it might be too soon, but Shawn took the ball and went running with it at about ninety miles an hour. The duo had arrived at the station forty-eight hours later to tell her where the suspect had hid the evidence. Meaning, of course, Shawn was in the throws of a psychic vision.

"Where did he put it, Shawn?" Gus asked as Shawn stopped against a book shelf. "I see witches, and broom sticks," Shawn said loudly with his eyes closed, and his hands flailing around.

"Super, he hid the memo in Oz. Are there flying monkeys?" Lassiter quipped.

"The spirits don't like your attitude, Lassie. And they'd like to know where you got that tie? I see a boy wizard and I see words, many, many, words," Shawn continued, grabbing a book off the shelf. Lassiter looked down at his tie and frowned.

"He hid the memo in a book," Juliet said excitedly, "in a Harry Potter book, probably in his son's room."

Shawn opened his eyes and grinned at her. "Gold star for Jules," he said. Juliet blushed very slightly.

"Okay, Mr. Spencer. I'll get people out there right now to check it out," Chief Vick told him. Everyone left the Chief's office. Gus raised his eyebrows in Juliet's direction, sending his friend a silent message. _Go and ask her._ Shawn took a deep breath and followed Juliet to her desk. She was seated in her chair, checking her voicemail. He stood next to the desk and waited for her to look at him. She hung up and made eye contact with him, surprised at the serious look on his face.

"Got a minute?" he asked.

"Sure," she said. He walked in the direction of the conference room and she followed him, curious to see what he had to say. He waited for her to walk through the doorway and closed the door. She stood and looked at him as he paced.

He stopped and brought his eyes up to meet hers. "When I was…trapped, I made this list," she stared at him, "of things I might not get to do before I died." She was speechless. This was a completely different side of Shawn Spencer that she hadn't seen before: a serious side.

"I had to thank Gus for, well, everything, which I did. Tell my mom that I love her. I did that. Tease Lassie at least one more time, which I've done more than that. See my dad one more time, even if it was to fight. Which not surprisingly, we've had several since I made the list," he told her.

"Shawn. That's a great list, but what does this have to do with me?"

"Well, you're the last on the list," he said and looked down.

She smiled, "Is that good?"

He chuckled, "Last, but not least. This is going to take every ounce of courage I have, which you've seen is not much."

"Just ask me, Shawn," she said looking him right in the eyes.

"Jules, will go out with me? On a real date?"

The End


End file.
